


Reckless

by TheBirdBotherer



Series: Eternal [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Early Romance Solas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Solas (Dragon Age), Solavellan, Solavellan Hell, Sub Solas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21821488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBirdBotherer/pseuds/TheBirdBotherer
Summary: The weather in the Fallow Mire proved to be the most difficult part of the mission. Solas assists in keeping the contents of their shared tent dry with an incantation. The only person Lavellan would cry in front of is Solas, and this is an honour that Solas takes seriously. Cuddling and hand holding happens. Emotional healthiness for the stressed doesn't come easy, but is important even for the Inquisitor.--" She had barely slept an entire night, her favourite feeling used to be the warm feeling of being inside when it was stormy outside. This feeling was distinctly absent as she sat here now, feeling slightly surreal and noticing the dull itching sensation in her palm. Lightning drew across the sky, its anger and frustrations about the world could be felt every time it screamed it pain, as though trying to purge the rifts out of its skin.This was something Lavellan could relate to. But in this barely warm tent, she was all alone, the only elf except for Solas. She barely even knew what sort of elf he was, seeing as he barely understands her customs or took the time to stop criticising everything for a moment to join her in her rituals."
Relationships: Female Inquisitor & Solas, Female Lavellan/Solas
Series: Eternal [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956265
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	Reckless

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a oneshot, but if you liked this, please do leave a comment or a Kudo!

With the final pegs of the tent set down, Lavellan crept into the warm; albeit slightly damp confines of her battered tent. Her braids completely drenched, her small clothes under her armour soggy and causing her skin to prune and the soles of her feet tired with the walking. She could have taken a horse, but what sort of leader refuses to assist her soldiers when they have supplies? She did not enjoy the thought of leaving the menial labour to the “little people”. In her mind, she did not see a distinction between them and her, and a glowing green mark on her hands means nothing if she can’t do something in that moment, right there, to make someone’s life a little better, even for an instance. 

Lavellan briefly wondered if one leading a paralian life by the storm coast had to endure such damp conditions for their hair and skin, and perhaps if someone had come up with some sort of incantation to repel water. This was no trouble for someone with no hair of course. Within the darkness of her tent, she could see the torches outside being lit, shadows of inquisition soldiers cast upon her tent, she sat in silence, observing what little alone time she had since this whole mess began. 

She had barely slept an entire night, her favourite feeling used to be the warm feeling of being inside when it was stormy outside. This feeling was distinctly absent as she sat here now, feeling slightly surreal and noticing the dull itching sensation in her palm. Lightning drew across the sky, its anger and frustrations about the world could be felt every time it screamed it pain, as though trying to purge the rifts out of its skin. 

This was something Lavellan could relate to. But in this barely warm tent, she was all alone, the only elf except for Solas. She barely even knew what sort of elf he was, seeing as he barely understands her customs or took the time to stop criticising everything for a moment to join her in her rituals. 

Interrupting her fleeting and slightly morbid thought of removing her hand entirely, she felt a warm blanket draped over her shoulder and a dry towel tossed into her lap. She did not look up, instead choosing to focus on removing the metal plates of her leg guards. It was only when she saw a rune flash across the bottom of the tent to dry out the entire floor that she realised her tent arrangements. 

“So there is a spell for that…” Lavellan commented whispered, amused. 

“What?” 

“I was just wondering if that thing you did to make everything dry could theoretically work on hair.. or maybe clothing?” Lavellan smirked, adjusting her folded position on the floor to face him. 

Solas replied in kind. “You can try but.. it works best on a large surface area. Unless you are keen to experience an entirely dry mouth and throat, dry eyes… I suggest perhaps limiting that incantation to inanimate objects. I can teach it to you if you’d like. ” 

Lavellan thought of the applications of that incantation. One could.. dry the entire floor of a room after mopping it. One could dry vegetables, and dry meats, and laundry. One could desiccate an enemy. She wondered briefly where Solas has so much experience if he had not been with a circle or a clan. 

“Not tonight, but knowing that you know how to do that makes me feel so much more inclined to sharing a tent with you from now on.” Lavellan removed her shoes and damp socks, laying them out neatly in the corner. She noticed Solas doing the same on his side of the tent, so she decided it was best to mirror him to be a considerate room mate. She unbraided her damp locks, reaching for a small brush to try and get them to a manageable state before wrapping the towel on her lap onto her hair. Piece by piece, the metal plates of her armour came off. Before the final piece was removed, she felt a certain shyness creep into her chest.

Lavellan had only ever shared a tent with a female party member. But seeing as this quest involved damp weather, the party consisted of the Bull, Cole and Solas. Even with all the graciousness in the world, Vivienne did not like the idea of any of her Orlesian made products handling the wet weather, Cassandra was still recovering from their previous encounter with Gurguts and Sera didn’t like Solas because he was “a stuffy arse”. Lavellan supposed she was lucky, She wasn’t even sure if Cole slept or if he was just gonna watch her the entire time, and Bull’s snoring was rather legendary. Solas was considerate, quiet, if slightly hypercritical of himself and those around him, but still the best option. 

“I can set up a barrier between us with the blankets if you’d like more privacy.” Solas offered, noticing her hesitation at disrobing before him. “It’s no trouble.” He stood, holding his blanket and looking for someplace high on the tent he could hook the edges of it onto. 

“No, no you’ll be cold, it’s alright, really.” 

“I shall avert my gaze, however painfully.” He offered. Solas grinned internally, noting the slight pinkness of her youthful features. Despite the apostate identity he currently carries, and nevermind that he was in reality older than Skyhold itself, his physical features presented him at no more than mid forties, an age well over twice of the Inquisitor’s. Their stolen kiss in the fade was nothing short of inappropriate and a lapse of judgement that they’re now trying to pretend did not happen. Perhaps this was for the best. What he needs to do next would require a resolve that would leave the taste of blood in one’s mouth. 

Perhaps in that moment, the humour of the situation did not escape as he thought about how easily the Inquisitor’s Dalish upbringing led her to curse in his name whenever she killed or felt the need to exclaim. The very cursed figure would then lay by her side, eager to please and make her comfortable in any way he could like a loyal puppy. Perhaps this was what he deserved, be tormented by the knowledge that he did this to that pure, intelligent, fearless and exceptionally gifted mage. 

To know that her fate was sealed because of his stupidity so many years ago. Perhaps he only made her comfortable now because there was really nothing else he could do for her. Solas wondered if she would take his name in vain in her throes of pleasure too, as easily as she did only moments ago. Even though he did not wish to admit, the Dread Wolf felt himself feeling increasingly protective of Lavellan, his warding almost always focused on her. He wants to think it is because she holds the key to closing the Breach, to cleaning up his mess, but they both knew that really wasn’t the case. How the mark turned into a cynosure was beyond even his imagination. 

Turning his back on her, he continued to unpack his belongings in silence. Another crack of thunder rang through camp before Lavellan noticed she was staring at the fabric of his outfit. Gingerly, she shimmied out of the final pieces of damp armour before reaching into her dry bag for some long sleeved clothing options. Her nightdress was humble. The ivory threads of the woven fabric provided enough comfort and was easy to carry around. She felt the insides of her ears getting warm as she felt yet another wave of shyness towards Solas. 

“I’m done. You can turn around now.” She offered, looking back at him to realise that he had laid out her bedroll for her and took the liberty of laying out a cup of water which looks heated out by the side of her pillow. Eyes shut, he had somehow managed to change, and get into his own bedroll silently in the time it took for Lavellan to undress and redress. Ruffling the towel out of her hair, she hoped it would dry by tomorrow morning, but she knew it was best to handle the Avvar quickly and leave because it doesn’t ever seem to stop raining. Maybe that drying incantation would be useful after all. 

Lavellan noticed that Solas hadn’t left a space between their bedrolls, and they had a slight overlap on the edge. Rolling over, Solas patted the space beside him and motioned for her to lay down. This was the first time she truly looked into his eyes. She wondered what secrets he had behind those icy orbs. Even in the occasional glow from the lightning, she could notice the nodes of green between the blue of his irises. Her gaze trailed to the fullness of his lips and the curve of his jawline. If this was the level of intimacy Solas was comfortable with sharing, then Lavellan did not feel the need to push her luck. They said nothing for a long time, simply sharing their feelings with their eyes, the sounds of the horse drawn carriages carrying inquisition supplies right outside their tent. 

Reaching his hand out to hold hers, he let out a small sigh. The moment was intensified by how much she wanted to reach over and place her head on his chest, listen to his heartbeat, feel the warmth radiating from his skin. But as he said, there were.. considerations. With all the details she had tried to memorise of his face in this intimate, fleeting moment, she failed to recognise that he was doing the exact same thing, that in the same moment, he was studying her worry, all her burdens so badly hidden behind her freckles and eyelashes and pink parted lips. 

“Everything will be okay.” He offered softly. 

“I hope so.” Lavellan replied, shutting her eyes and allowing a tear to roll from her eye in this unguarded moment. She didn’t feel the need to hide this from him if she wanted him to open up to her. 

“I’ve got your back. Everything will be okay.” Solas said in a firmer tone, giving her hand a squeeze. 

“I know, I know.” Lavellan tried to stop herself, but this was the first time she’s cried since she left Haven. Retracting her hand from his, she used the back of her palm to wipe her tears away, she took a deep breathe just to try and cram her tears back, she was unsure of why it was so easy to be herself around him. As an elfling in her village, she was always the one who cried first, the one who was quick to show her feelings, and since she’s met such a strong and inspiring woman as Cassandra, she has tried to emanate her in her own little ways. She stopped presenting her true opinions, she started looking out for everyone else, she began to find ways she could give a little more of herself. Crying was the only thing she’s done for herself in a long time. Crying wasn’t something Cassandra would do. 

Solas reached a hand to cup her porcelain cheek, noticing a cut along her hairline and wiping his thumb over it to heal it. 

“My heart.” His voice could not hide the amount of sympathy he felt for her. To be thrust into a world of pain, violence and hatred was not what he had intended for a member of his species. 

With a single scoop, he wrapped one arm around Lavellan’s back and another around her form, with his hand on the back of her head in a protective cradle. 

The sobbing continued, the sort of small quiet sob one would have if one was trying really hard to be brave for everyone else. The kind of crying one would have because they knew that if they didn’t have their shit together, everyone else would be panicking. Lavellan had the good sense to keeping morale up, but the sacrifice made was that every time she did that, a part of her would die, and become the Inquisitor. Parts of her former self chipping away slowly, till she no longer recognised the person in the mirror. 

Solas noticed a presence in the far corner of their tent, extending a empathetic wave and a calmness emanating towards them before dissapearing entirely.

Lavellan’s chest was still rising and falling erratically, but she had fallen asleep, her head tucked safely in the crook of his neck. He hadn’t felt such tenderness in an eon. He allowed himself to enjoy the moment. Wrapping their blanket tighter around them, Solas made a silent vow to never put this precious child in harm’s way if he had the choice. And even if he had to, he would ensure an equal amount of pain was felt on his part in punishment. 

The evening was spent in this closeness, and eventually slept took Solas as well. 

The Inquisitor would find lemon cakes drizzled with honey in the corner of her tent the next day. 


End file.
